Messy Together
by TappinCastlefan
Summary: "To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now." -Samuel Beckett. Post-"Always".
1. Chapter 1

_Yep, I caved and took a stab at some post-finale fic. Hope you like!_

_Also, this is not beta-ed. All mistakes are mine. _

**Disclaimer:** Definitely not mine.

**Summary: **"To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now." -Samuel Beckett

**Messy Together (1/3)**

* * *

His head is pounding.

He can feel all the muscles on his skull throbbing with adrenaline and anger. Angry with Gates, and Ryan, a little bit with Beckett.

Angry with himself.

He heads for the elevator, but realizes that he's too tense for the smooth decent and turns to the stairs. His feet fall heavy on the cement steps. Harsh beats echo back at him.

_You could lose your job._

_You could lose your partner. _

_You could lose your friend._

He reaches the floor below and pauses. Somehow his fist comes into contact with the brick wall. The skin breaks for small drops of blood but he doesn't care.

_She needed your help._

_You needed to help._

_You failed._

With a shake of his hand – that'll bruise – he starts his decent again. He hits the parking garage almost at a run, practically tearing the door off of his car when he gets to it. He's sitting in the driver's seat, key in the ignition, knuckles white with tension, gripping the wheel, when he realizes that he has no idea where the hell to go.

The world thunders around him, booming and cracking with flashes of lightening.

Where the hell can he go?

* * *

It's a full-blown thunderstorm when he gets there, and the water is dripping from his sleeves and jeans. The soles of his shoes squish on the tiled floor.

There are officers and doctors and interns giving him odd looks, but he just doesn't care. He just needs to see her.

He hesitates outside the morgue, hoping she's not busy. The double doors slide open with a push of his palm. The room is empty and cold. Like him. He finds her in the office, examining something on her computer monitor. She probably has no idea of what's happened in the last two days. He raps his 'better' hand against the doorframe, her head pops up at the sound. Her face falls in a blink, her eyes wide. "Javi…" her voice is breathy and surprised.

Surprised to see him here, now, and not in the middle of the night at one of their apartments. When she thinks he's in the middle of a case. And when he probably looks like he's been hit by a bus.

"What happened?" Her hand comes up to cup his cheek. He didn't even notice that she had stood up and crossed the room.

"It was him. The guy who shot Kate."

She gasps.

"She wouldn't back down, and I encouraged her."

Lanie takes his hands, noticing how ripped up his right one is, and pulls him to sit on the couch against the wall. Her voice is tight, almost teary, "Javi," she pleads with him, "what happened?"

He rests a hand on top of hers, warm and as comforting as he can be. "We went after him. Kate and I. Didn't tell Gates. I-I couldn't fight with her. She would've gone on her own and gotten herself killed."

"So she's okay?"

"Sort of," he sighs. His eyes drop to his hands, his right, bruised and stained with streaks of blood, his left intertwined with hers. "Ryan told Gates where we went. I'm on suspension."

"And Kate?"

He looks at her with solemn eyes, rubs his thumb across the side of her hand, "She resigned."

"She _what_?"

He can only nod. "'Bout half an hour ago. I haven't seen her since. I just…walked out. I don't know if I'll have a job to come back to, or a partner."

She apologizes even though she knows the words mean absolutely nothing and do nothing for him. "Here," she stands and picks up a first aid kit from behind her desk, "let me clean you up. You look like you can use it right about now."

He watches her disinfect the cuts on his knuckles and bandage up his hand. She's so careful, and gentle. Her fingers just feel like love. When she finishes she looks up at him, first aid kit pushed to the side. "I didn't know what to do. Even if we told Gates in the first place there's no way in hell she would've let her work this case. And you know her."

"She would've gone anyway." She's sitting closer, cradling the hand she just tended. "She's lucky to have you. _Ryan_ is lucky to have you. I'm sure they know that."

"You know, I probably have the exact same training as this guy. Same weapon, same skills."

She rushes to pull his face to look at her, making him focus on the truth. "But the difference is, you use all that training for good. You help people. You save people."

"Do I? Almost a year we've been chasing him. He's like a mist. Every time we get anywhere near close he disappears. And right now, he's winning. Knocked me flat on my ass."

"Hey," she croons, "it's not over yet."

"What else can I do Lain?"

"Well, you're going to wait out your suspension, and we'll knock some sense into Kate. You'll go back to work and you and Ryan will forgive each other. And you'll be back at it soon enough. You just have to be patient."

He leans over to kiss her forehead, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so sorry Lanie. I don't want to do this without you."

He feels her tense in his hold.

"Can we start over? Fix everything we screwed up? There doesn't have to be an end goal. We can just be us."

She relaxes, burying her face in his neck, not caring that he smells like sweat and rain. He smelled like _him_. Like the only man she's been able to think about for the past six months.

"No." She pulls back to look at him. "But we can start where we left off. Only…better."

His face cracks into the smile she's missed so much.

Her hands find a home on his biceps, his on her waist. He meets her halfway, his lips meeting hers in a fury of passion that's been absent from their lives.

And suddenly, he thinks, everything seems just a little bit lighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

**Summary: **"To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now." -Samuel Beckett

**Messy Together (2/3)**

* * *

He's frozen.

Stuck staring at the grate across from him. Officers shuffle back and forth on the other side of it, noses in files, leading suspects. But he's stuck here.

It feels like someone's dropped lead into his shoes.

He wants to yell. Throw things. Get in Gates' face for not seeing that this isn't _just_ a case.

He wants to turn back time and go with them.

Maybe one more person would have made a difference.

Maybe.

Probably not.

_Don't be stupid. You know you did the right thing._

His hands shook when he went in to tell the Captain. To tattle on his friends as if they were six years old. As if he hadn't felt awful enough she reamed him out for letting it go so long.

And then there was the look on their faces when they left. Didn't even speak to him.

_You saved their lives. And they may never forgive you_.

The bullpen is near silent behind him as he stares at the wall. Empty. He's empty. He can hear Gates in her office, making phone calls and yelling for the proper paperwork. A few of the other detectives are discussing other cases. Someone else is telling a joke.

It's all white noise in his ears.

When his phone vibrates on the desk beside him he remembers how to move. Just a text though.

_I've got dinner for when you get home_, it reads.

It takes all his strength to smile at how wonderful his wife is. Slowly he shifts and stands again, gathers his things and leaves. He doesn't even tell Gates. She probably knows anyway, and there's no one else around to care and no real work to do either.

He can't help but question if it's worth being here without them.

* * *

He walks through the door and into the aroma of warm garlic bread and pasta hits. Jenny's at the kitchen counter stirring noodles in her favorite pair of leggings and one of his college T-shirts. At the sight he lets everything fall from his hands – who cares if there's a pile by the front door, he's not planning on leaving for a while – and slides right up behind her.

His arms hug low her waist, his head pillowed on her shoulder, her hair a curtain over his face.

He could stay here forever.

"Hey," she says with a smile, "glad you're home."

"Glad to be home."

She drops the pronged ladle on a towel next to the stove and turns to look at him. "What's up?" She can tell by his face that something's up, and whatever it is, it's not good. His eyes are dull, his face slack. The spark she usually sees when he gets home is absent. "What happened?"

"Too much?" He sighs, dejected, "Javi's suspended."

"What? Why?"

Kevin reaches around her to turn the burner off. If the pasta isn't done, oh well. "It's kind of my fault."

She squints, cocks her head. He's not making sense. "I don't think I understand. You're going to have to give me more."

"That case I got called to yesterday afternoon? Our killer is Kate's shooter."

"How?"

"The victim had broken into Montgomery's house and taken files. We think- thought, it had to do with her mom, and her shooting."

"Kevin, that's-"

"Crazy? I know. It's been almost a year, but yeah." He tightens his hold on her, unable to get enough of this comfort. It may never be enough, but he has to try. "Kate and Javi didn't want to tell Gates. And I did, but they're my friends and my partners, so I kept my mouth shut. But they wouldn't give it up, or see how dangerous it was."

She's running her hands up and down his arms, soothing. A reminder to calm down. Nothing he can do about it now, anyway. Might as well just get everything out.

"When they went after him on their own…and without backup, I just- I couldn't _not_ tell her. They could have been killed."

He feels her fingers brushing his cheeks before he realizes he must be crying. He takes her hand in his, resting them both against his chest. "We got there just in time. Kate was…god, she was hanging off of a building. Javi was knocked out in a hallway. If I hadn't told her?"

"Hey," she cuts him off. "You did the right thing. You _know_ you did the right thing. And you did it because yeah, they're your friends, and your partners, and you care about them. They _will_ remember that. Even if they can't see it now."

"How can you be so sure? I mean, Kate didn't even look at me. She packed up her desk and she left. Javi just…he'll never forgive me."

"Just trust me okay? Trust your partners. It will work out. You'll see." She grabs his lapels with a sly smile. "And one day you'll come home and tell me how you and Javier made up and how Kate came back and you'll have to sit there as I say 'I told you so.'"

She presses a tender kiss to his lips before he can argue.

"Come on," she breaks from his embrace, turning back to test the pasta and plate it, "We'll have dinner, and open a bottle of wine, and you'll forget about it for tonight. Tomorrow's a new day."

He wraps himself around her again, loving the way she giggles when his fingers brush her stomach. He kisses her neck, her cheek, and her temple, with a smile.

"Thank you."

He uncorks the wine and pours them each a glass as she dishes out generous helpings of pasta and sauce. They move like a unit to get everything to the table, shutting off their cell phones and turning on sitcom reruns to listen to as they eat.

She starts telling him about her day, light and humored, but he can't focus on her story. All he can see is how sweet and beautiful she is, how much she cares. His heart pounds in his chest. Aches for her.

He takes her hand from across the table, and he's home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, it'll never be mine.

**Summary: **"To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now." -Samuel Beckett

**Messy Together (3/3)**

* * *

She's barely awake.

He's asleep beside her – half underneath her – but she can't let herself slip into the black yet. He's warm and comfortable – and everything she never knew she _really_ wanted.

She traces slow, rhythmic circles on his chest with her index finger. He's still holding onto her, one arm wrapped around her where she's curled into him.

She's happy here.

She didn't even realize that she hadn't been truly happy until she suddenly was.

The storm has slowed to a gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows. The thunder has stopped, the lightening long gone.

Her body is exhausted. Sated and relaxed. But there's still a war raging in her brain. Everything she thought she was had changed in one night.

For the first time since she was twelve she was completely unemployed. She had gone right from babysitting to working at the college bookstore to being a cop. What was she going to do with herself?

_You're going to be with Castle, that's what_.

_There's more to you than the NYPD._

_There has to be. Somewhere._

She looks up from where her head has been resting on his shoulder. He's been here for everything. Everything may have stirred up again with his initial arrival, but he has never left her side for any of it.

Not _really_.

The moment he left – the one time he was _really_ gone – she realized just how much she needs him. Because she wasn't lying when she said he was all she could think about when she was literally hanging on for her life. His face was all she saw, his voice all she heard.

And then he took her back.

_Because he loves you_.

He loves her. It still makes her grin, even though he's told her at least four more times since she showed up drenched and desperate for him.

She kisses his cheek, laughing softly when he mutters in his sleep. She sinks back down into the mattress, pulling the sheet tighter around them. And lacing her fingers through his, she lets herself sleep.

* * *

When she stirs there's bright sunlight streaming through the windows and across the bed. She can feel his hand on her side, his fingers tracing lazy circles against her hip.

"Morning," he whispers.

She looks up at him with a smile.

"Great morning," she clarifies.

"Really?" He looks so hopeful and pleased.

"Really," she nods, kisses him, catching him off guard. His hand comes up to the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. "Castle?" She asks, her voice strained from yelling and crying and sleep, "Are we okay?"

He laughs. "I think we're more than okay."

Her gaze narrows. "I'm serious."

"So am I. I told you," he pauses, trying to decide if he can go ahead and say it or not, but at this point, where the hell is the line holding him back? "I love you. I'm here. And you're here."

She tugs the sheet up around her as she sits up. Her fingers catch his, her eyes questioning and concerned. "You were really gone this time. For the first time since I met you I was _actually _alone, and I didn't want to- I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

_I didn't want to die without making it _here_._

"Kate," he mirrors her position, kisses her knuckles, "you won't be alone ever again. I promise. The next time you're in a life or death situation, I'll be right there with you."

"Castle, I don't know if that's going to happen again. Ever."

"Come on, Kate, you of all people know there's no certainty in what you do."

"Did." She freezes when she realizes that she still hasn't told him everything. He finagled the hanging off of a building part, but that was it. She still doesn't know that she's just Kate Beckett now. Not 'Detective.'

He squints at her, head tilted, inquisitive. "What?"

"I, ah," she twists the edge of the sheet with her fingers, "I resigned." It comes out as a whisper, and she can't meet his eyes.

"You what?"

She shakes her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Gates ripped into us. Esposito and me. After Ryan told her where we went. It was supposed to just be administrative leave, but…"

"You resigned."

"Yeah." She's desperate when she looks back at him. Desperate for him to understand. "I'm sorry."

Desperate for him to forgive her.

"Come here."

Her chest is heaving as he pulls her into his lap. It's all flashing in her eyes – the sniper, the freezer, the bomb, the second bomb, the bank – yet another bomb – the tiger, the river, and now an edge of a freaking building.

"It's okay," he soothes, "Everything's going to be okay."

"What did I do Rick?" Is she shaking? Possibly. "I quit. Gates is pissed. Esposito's suspended. And Kevin's…there. And it's all my fault." He's rocking her, assuring her.

"I saw his face." She reaches for his face and he kisses her palm. "The man who shot me. Looked right into his eyes. I begged for him to just tell me who hired him, but of course he wouldn't. I don't even know what I was thinking. And when I tried fighting him off…he didn't even flinch."

He turns her around to face him. "Hey, we'll figure it out. But you have to let me help. Not just the easy stuff. I told you, I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere. Not again."

"I know," she nods into his neck. "I know. I just, don't want to be without you again. It's kind of boring."

He laughs. It's warm and deep and loving. "I knew you'd cave eventually."

"I didn't cave, exactly." She's arguing, and she knows it. It's pathetic. But it's what they do.

At least something hasn't changed.

"I'm just used to having constant amusement."

"You _so_ caved."

"No! I didn't."

"Call it what you will Kate. You're the one who wants me around."

"Yes," she pokes him in the shoulder, "And you're not leaving. And neither am I."

"Never again," he leans down to kiss her. "You and me."

He's here. And she's here. And they're together.

And even though everything hurts, it feels better with him.

* * *

_Thoughts? Always a pleasure!_

**_-Tappin_**  
**_:D_**


End file.
